"I need help, Rob. I'm confused."

That touched me, and I reached out for her hand. She just let it lay limp in mine, not squeezing back and not pulling away. She said: "My psychology professor used to say that was the first step --no, the second step. The first step when you have a problem is to know you have it. Well, I've known that for some time. The second step is to make a decision: Do you want to keep the problem, or do you want to do something about it? I've decided to do something about it."

"Where will you go?" I asked, carefully noncommittal.

"I don't know. The groups don't seem to do much. There's a shrink machine available on the Corporation master computer. That would be the cheapest way."

"Cheap is cheap," I said. "I spent two years with the shrink machines when I was younger, after I-- I was kind of messed up."

"And since then you've been operating for twenty years," she said reasonably. "I'd settle for that. For now, anyway."

I patted her hand. "Any step you take is a good step," I said kindly. "I've had the feeling all along that you and I could get along better if you could clear some of that old birthright crap out of your mind. We all do it, I guess, but I'd rather have you angry at me on my own than because I'm acting as a surrogate for your father or something."

She rolled over and looked at me. Even in the pale Heecheemetal glow I could see surprise on her face. "What are you talking about?"

"Why, your problem, Klara. I know it took a lot of courage for you to admit to yourself that you needed help."

"Well, Rob," she said, "it did, only you don't seem to know what the problem is. Getting along with you isn't the problem. You may be the problem. I just don't know. What I'm worried about is stalling. Being unable to make decisions. Putting it off so long before I went out again -- and, no offense, picking a Gemini like you to go out with."

"I hate it when you give me that astrology crap!"

"You do have a mixed-up personality, Rob, you know you do. And I seem to lean on that. I don't want to live that way."

We were both wide awake again by then, and there seemed to be two ways for things to go. We could get into a but-you-said-you-loved-me, but-I-can't-stand-this scene, probably ending with either more sex or a wide-open split; or we could do something to take our minds off it. Klara's thoughts were clearly moving in the same direction as mine, because she slid out of the hammock and began pulling on clothes. "Let's go up to the casino," she said brightly. "I feel lucky tonight."